Out Of Sorts
by AnomalousSlytherin
Summary: Hermione has been having a rather difficult time recently, and Draco's harsh words cause her to doubt her abilities! One potions lesson, it goes a bit too far and Snape becomes emotionally involved. Not Snape/Hermion. One-shot. Set in first year.


**So, this is just a little one shot that came to mind earlier today and I absolutely have to write. I hope you enjoy it! **

**All characters belong to the genius mind of J.K Rowling. Please review and let me know if you want me to write more one-shots in the future, alongside the full length fic I'm working on with my OC!  
>NOT SLASH!<strong>

"Ooh, Professor, come quickly!" Moaning Myrtle swooped out of the girl's lavatory as she wailed.

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow, before sighing. He knew from experience that the only way to evict the ghost girl's deafening tones from his ears was to give in and listen.

"What do you want, Miss-" About to address her by surname, as he would do with any student, he realised that he was unaware of it. He was _absolutely __**not **_about to refer to her as Miss Moaning!

"I was just lying in the U-bend, pondering ways I would cause agony to that little bitch Olive Hornby if she was ever to return to this castle when-"

"I did not ask for an analogy of your life. I have places to be. If you would please explain where I fit into this tale?" Severus pinched the bridge of his nose impatiently.

Myrtle pouted, before continuing. "That girl with the bushy hair, she's in there crying. It was so loud it dragged me right from my thoughts! I tried to talk to her but noooo, Myrtle isn't good enough. Ugly, stupid Myrtle is NEVER GOOD ENOUGH!" And she dived back into the lavatory and down the plug of a sink.

Professor Snape, however, was debating on whether or not he should follow. Normally, the answer would be absolutely not; whether he was a professor or not, he had no business being in the girl's lavatory. Furthermore, he wouldn't usually be the slightest bit bothered by a student in tears. But, and perhaps he was getting too soft, this time he felt personally involved in the situation.

**39 minutes previously**

Professor Snape entered the dingy potions classroom, robes billowing and limp black hair flopping with every step. All students fell silent.

"I expect you all have your potions assignments out on your desks." He scanned his charges, smirking with satisfaction as Weasley gasped and fumbled in his second-hand shoulder bag, while Potter gave his own smirk, seemingly proud of the 10 inches (the absolute minimum for this assignment, might I add) of parchment rolled upon his desk. Longbottom, despite having 12 inches of his own, was still nervously shaking and naturally tearful. That was to be expected of the first year Gryffindor, and Snape revelled in every moment of it.

What appeared completely out of the ordinary, though, was that just beside Longbottom, Granger had her head bowed above her exceedingly lengthy roll of parchment. Usually the girl would be staring up at him expectantly, poised and ready to answer any question that the professor would throw to her. If she were a Slytherin, she would be awarded an abundance of house points for her efforts and knowledge, but he was inconceivable that he could award anything, let alone house points, to a Gryffindor.

He wrote his instructions on the blackboard and commanded that they begin their inevitable failures of Sleeping Draughts. As most of the students, including Longbottom, rose from their seats and began with more than a hint of uncertainty, Granger remained seated and bowed her head further.

While collecting the homework assignments of each student, and gleefully recording a late-night detention with Mr Filch for Weasley, Professor Snape paused beside Hermione's desk. Neville was desperately tapping on her shoulder, trying to gain her assistance with the Sleeping Draught.

"On your _own_, Longbottom. Will that be a problem? I wasn't aware that you needed someone to hold your hand in the classroom too." Neville blushed and edged closer to Harry who, unsure himself, gave Neville sly hints while Snape was distracted.

Hesitating slightly, Severus tapped the girl's shoulder with a long, slender finger to gain her attention. "Miss Granger?" His voice was often soft, so this tone was unsurprising to all students. He received no reaction. "Miss Granger, you're not one for disobeying the rules. I quite clearly stated that you all must complete a Sleeping Draught this lesson or suffer the consequences." Neville whimpered. "The most severe of those consequences is undoubtedly reserved for you, Mr Longbottom. Now, if you would, Miss Granger."

"Yes, I'm sorry, Professor." She muttered, drawing herself up and meeting his cold gaze. Her own eyes were brimming with tears and her voice cracked as she spoke. She began collecting her ingredients and worked silently alongside a bumbling Neville.

Severus decided to ignore the girl's emotions; she was probably just whining about a bad grade, or boyfriend troubles. Then again, he pondered, it's unfeasible that Granger would receive a bad grade, and boyfriend troubles at the age of _eleven_? Not Hermione, anyway. He ignored these questions in his mind and concentrated on marking the essays of his first year students.

Hermione, however, was finding it impossible to concentrate on her potion, tears streaming from her eyes and into her bubbling cauldron.

"Look at Granger over there, _crying_. Stupid little Mudblood." Murmured Malfoy theatrically to his goons.

"Silence, Mr Malfoy." Came a silky voice from the front of the classroom. Glancing over at Granger, he inaudibly sighed and carried on marking.

Hermione knew that, by now, her tears would have certainly rendered the potion 100% useless. Instead of completing her task, which she would normally do with the greatest pride, she gave in and hunched over, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Harry and Ron gave each other a concerned glance, but neither dared to disobey Snape's rule of silence; there were house points at stake and Gryffindor were already dismally falling behind. Not to mention the fact that Ron _already _had a looming detention with Filch that he was absolutely sure would include some form of cruelty. Sympathetically, they gave her one last look before stirring their cauldrons thrice to the left.

Neville Longbottom was all too empathetic with Hermione. He knew what it was like to break down like that, and he was well aware of how kind she had been to him when he had endured one of his 'moments', of which there are many, in one of Snape's lessons. Discarding his potion (did he really have much to lose?) he gently rubbed her shoulder.

"Are you alright, 'Mione?" He tentatively whispered.

"Mr Longbottom!" Snape, snake-like as he was, had silently slithered behind Neville and was now reprimanding the chubby boy. "Five points from Gryffindor for your disobedience. I expect I shall be removing a further fifteen for your abysmal Sleeping Draught later this lesson. Back to your desk!"

Professor Snape was not only Neville's most feared teacher; he was Neville's greatest fear full stop. He was a phobia that could catch him at any moment and took immense pleasure in destroying whatever fragment of confidence Neville had remaining. This time, though, Neville was determined not to let the greasy git get to him. He stood as upright as he could be, which really was only slightly above the older man's waist, and spoke confidently, hiding his trembling hands behind his back. "There's something upsetting my best friend, sir."

Snape's lips barely moved. "Desk. GO!" It was no more than a whisper, albeit a sinister one, but it sent Neville scurrying back to his seat faster than Ron with his piled-high plate at the Christmas feast.

"Oh my life, did you hear the little tubbykins? Granger is his _best friend! _I may just wet myself laughing!" Draco snorted.

His comment, childish as it was, had Hermione fleeing the room in floods of tears. Severus debated following the girl, but knew that it would do nothing for his reputation. Instead, he picked up a textbook and gave Malfoy a whack on the back of his head. He hit Longbottom too for good measure.

The rest of the lesson was dreary. Potter and Weasley were too agitated by Malfoy's presence to produce outstanding potions, but they were, surprisingly to Severus, actually useful. That meant that he had no reason to punish Harry and Ron, and only punished Neville by deducting a further twenty house points. He'd said fifteen, but it was Longbottom.

The lesson was over, and Granger had not returned. As much as he did not wish to show his interest in the situation, he was well aware of the Hogwart's student safety rules: **If a student disappears unannounced and does not return, treat as suspicious and/or concerning circumstances. **Though she had only been gone for thirty minutes, he knew he must at least inform Minerva of the Gryffindor girl's absence.

That was until he was greeted by Myrtle.

Sighing for what seemed like the twentieth time that day, Severus entered the girl's lavatory. The sound of muffled sobs came from the only locked stall. He took six silent steps towards the stall and gently knocked on the door.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione gasped. She tried to speak but she was crying too hard.

"S-sorry sir, I-I shouldn't be h-here!" She unlocked the stall and attempted to leave, but a large hand lightly grasped her shoulder. The girl burst into a fresh set of tears.

"Miss Granger." Severus was growing more and more concerned as she wept, though he fought the urge to show it. "Miss Granger." Still no response. "_Hermione._" The use of her first name by Professor Snape shocked her into silence.

"What is the matter with you, child?" He led her to the sinks. Myrtle, who was looming above them, tried to follow. Snape shot her a deadly look and she fled.

"I-I'm just…not right."

"In what way, exactly." He almost sounded kind.

"Every way. I lack the b-basic ability to even be a witch. Why am I here? M-Malfoy's right; I am a stupid little Mudblood." Yet more tears spilled over her eyelids.

Severus, despite himself often being the producer of put downs to the students, Gryffindors especially, knew just how awful the term Mudblood could make a Witch feel. It was a feeling of self-loathing that he himself knew all too well.

As the girl sniffled and tried to fight tears below him, something inside of him gave way. Severus Snape was absolutely not a compassionate person and would never dream of being perceived as kind. All of that, however, was forgotten as he wrapped his arms around the small girl and comforted her.

He would be having words with Malfoy later.


End file.
